A Faustian Bargain
by ObsidianSorrows
Summary: Rosette and Chrno. Rosette listens to the sins of the incarcerated. What happens when this lands her in a bargain with a demon? Can he be reformed? Even more, can he learn to love?
1. The Basement

A Faustian Bargain

Chapter 1: The Basement

A/N: ObsidianSorrows here! My first full-length Chrno Crusade story! The reviewers of "To Fulfill a Fantasy" actually inspired me. I decided to give this a go, and this time the plot was thought out specifically for Rosette and Chrno.

Plot: Rosette is a young woman who visits prisons and listens to men's sins. When her curiosity gets the best of her, Rosette somehow ends up listening to the sins of a _devil_. In this a relationship is begun, as well as a very dangerous bargain. Will it end in disaster?

For some background…this story is going to reference Faust the play a lot. Faust is the story of a German scholar who makes a pact with the devil. In some stories, Faust falls in love and is saved from being condemned. When used to describe something, "Faustian" usually means something that will end in disaster. I will not be taking that statement so seriously in this though, because I do not favor angst that much.

The first reference to Faust is the name of the devil, Mephistopheles.

There will also be several Biblical references throughout the story. I doubt any of them will insult anyone.

This will be a Rosette and Chrno romance. There is none existing in this first chapter, but please bear with me!

Read on!

OooO

_Never lose a holy curiosity._

_-Albert Einstein_

OooO

"…and ten Hail Mary's for your penance. Go forward and sin no more."

The man nodded at the providential woman. He was dressed in a scruffy, orange jumpsuit—standard prison garb. The man wore plain, tattered brown shoes, had unkempt brown hair, and was sporting a few rotting teeth. The faded teal paint was peeling off the walls of the cell and the whole establishment smelled strongly of sweat and faintly of blood and puke. Not for the faint of heart, but last she checked, the prison wasn't signed up for any Nobel Prize any time soon.

"Thank God for you, missus," the man said, bowing his head close to the junction of her legs. As the action was made she subtly slid her hands further to the side, away from him. She had one two many episodes were she would find her small, feminine hands cupped in the dirty digits of a strange man begging for an angel. She was no angel and she didn't wish to be intertwining fingers with incarcerated prisoners in the near future, if ever.

"Hmmm," was all she hummed back to him as he fell prostrate, presumably to begin his penance prayers. She slid quietly out of the cell, the lingering scent of vanilla the only sign that she was ever there. She nodded silently to the guard who had stood watch as she administered. He locked up the man's cell, throwing her a lewd look in the process that made her insides churn. She stalked passed him, the man praying quietly on the floor the only thing keeping her from sending a projectile through the guard's skull. She quickly exited the building without so much as a backward glance.

"Whew," the girl muttered, hitching up her modest blue skirt (ankle length) as she loaded herself into the driver's side of her car. She tossed her Bible, rosary, and holy water into the passenger's seat, where a half-empty box of donuts already resided. She slid her key easily into the ignition but did not start the car. She rested her headed calmly against the steering wheel, which was hot because it had been roasting in the sun.

"_Thank God for you, missus._"

The blonde girl sighed. "Sure," she responded, imaging the man's face: his eyes shining with the prospect that she really was some heaven-sent creature. He couldn't be more off the mark though. Of course, in a hell with peeling walls and the stench of barf, she _was_ an angel. In the real world she was a teenager who spent her time listening to criminal's sins because it kept _her_ from landing in jail. An extra-curricular activity, so to say.

"_Thank God for you." _

She heaved another great sigh. "All in a day's work," she muttered, and drove off.

OooO

"How was work?" was the first greeting she received as she entered the room.

"Hello to you too," the girl started sarcastically. She plopped herself down on the sofa and it sagged under her weight. She picked a chocolate chip cookie off the plate on the coffee table and nibbled on it.

"Hello," the woman said flatly. Her name was Kate and she served as the girl's adoptive mother. She was a strict, austere woman who had raised the girl to be as holy and pure as the floating clouds in the sky. She had fallen short somewhere though, apparently, as she listened to the girl curse excessively for spilling a small cup of coffee in her lap.

"Oh Rosette, it would not be a normal day if you did not cause some sort of disaster," Kate mused, handing over napkins to clean up the mess that was quickly permeating Rosette's skirt. "Now, tell me about work. How many did you save?" She watched as the girl threw some of the soaked napkins on the table. "Rosette, don't just throw—"

"Why do you call it saving?" Rosette asked, smoothing out her ruined skirt. "I don't **save** anybody. I sit in a rickety old chair and listen to confessions of rape, murder, and incest—all while trying to keep my bile down. Then I tell them either to pray the Hail Mary or Our Father—which, by the way, I don't even _know_ what the difference each of them makes—and hope that they'll never do it again."

Kate tsked at her, not bothering to lighten the action with a smile or affectionate nod. "Pessimism fell the giant," she reminded Rosette. Rosette in turn leaned back into the cushions of the couch and fixed her with a skeptical glare.

"You made that up, didn't you?"

Kate frowned at her. "Don't talk back to me, child."

Rosette rolled her eyes and looked out the window. In Kate's world, that meant "Hell yes, I did." She didn't press the matter and instead gazed pensively out the window, picking idly at her nails. The sky was completely clear and the sun shone brilliantly. It was only a few degrees cooler in here than it was outside. Rosette had to wonder how Kate sat in her modest clothing without getting sweat stains over it all.

"How many, Rosette?"

'_Here we go again'_. Every day, the same persistent question bombarded her. How many? How many? Kate turned into a broken record player with the question, repeating and regurgitating it until Rosette gave a satisfactory answer. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why it was so important. She liked to imagine that the most probable reason was that Kate was keeping a tally somewhere and was going to send it in to some divine organization so Rosette could get a scholarship or a wad of money. Listening to people's dirty pasts had to have some sort of payoff, right?

"Five today; forty in total since a month and two days ago."

Kate's fingers slid around the lip of her cup and she stared passively into space. Rosette sat muted too, running her tongue along the rough serration of her bottom teeth. She waited for an answer.

"Five?" Kate finally inquired. "An awful big number, it seems."

"They had more interns today. There was a robbery at the Oxford Bank again."

"_Again?_" Kate huffed and delicately set her cup down on a plate covered in a white doily. "They really should think of getting more guards…"

Rosette, already in a cranky mood, asserted her two cents of pessimism. "Or just go out of business," she suggested.

Kate didn't answer for a moment. Rosette took the doily out from under her now empty coffee cup and attempted to relieve herself of the heat. The doily was useless. The valley between her breasts was going to be a swamp soon if she didn't get fresh air. It was so hot in the room that she partially feared catching on fire. (Her long skirt happened to be a flame disaster waiting to happen).

"Well, I don't know what the point of it all is," she finally started in, seeing as Kate was slipping into Alzheimer's Land with no intention of picking up their former conversation. "Men like that can't be saved."

It had never occurred to Rosette that Kate's silence had meant that she was upset. Now her wrath was turned on her full force.

"Rosette, what is wrong with you?" Kate demanded, her aging hands clenched into fists. They were squeezed so tightly that every prominent wrinkle was smoothed out, making the hand look as youthful as one of Rosette's. "Why do you speak of those men in such derogatory terms?"

Rosette bit her lip. Why _did_ she do it? Perhaps she was upset that visiting prisons constituted her version of "free time". Other girls her age were out shopping and looking for men who would lie between their legs. She was here, wearing old ladies' skirts and keeping company with social outcasts. Or maybe she really was repulsed by all of the things the men had done.

"I just don't think any of them are a challenge," Rosette said instead, in an effort to pacify Kate's lividness. It worked to some extent. Kate, who seemed on the verge of shattering a pot over her head, slowly slipped back into passivity. She sat more comfortably in her chair and fixated her eyes on Rosette. Her hand was tucked under her chin, signifying that she was thinking intensely about something.

"You want a challenge?"

'_I want a life,' _Rosette thought bitterly. '_I want to be running around with skirt-chasing boys.' _

"Yes," Rosette said, trying to cover up her bitterness. She didn't notice that with her answer Kate let out a quiet sigh and folded her hands thoughtfully in her lap. She didn't realize that perhaps Kate was seriously thinking about her words. All she could think about was the group of girls that day that she saw on the street: pretty little creatures that laughed and joked. _She _wanted to be like that, not a nun-in-training.

"Why do you think you need a challenge?" Kate queried, watching Rosette's movements like a hawk. She was aware of the possibility that Rosette was lying; the little cookie wasn't very good at it, after all. But Kate also considered that maybe a challenge was exactly what Rosette needed. The girl had too much energy pent up and felt cocky, and maybe working with some crack-case would knock her down a few pegs.

"The men just _accept_ that I can save them," Rosette said, surprised by how easy it was to say it. Was this _really _a lie? Or was this how she had really felt all along? "I want to meet someone that is really _depraved_. Someone who won't just take Hail Marys and Our Fathers as their saving grace."

Kate had begun to drink her coffee again as a means of occupying herself with something. She had a mouthful of hot liquid in her mouth when Rosette said her next words.

"I want a demon."

Kate coughed so hard that coffee nearly came out her nose. Everything went down the wrong tube and Kate wanted to strangle Rosette for almost giving her an aneurysm. Her skirt and shirt now as ruined as Rosette's, Kate shot Rosette a venomous glare.

"Rosette Christopher," she coughed, cleaning up her mouth with the remaining napkins. "Do not ask of such things." Kate turned her head away, her expression troubled. The child couldn't _possibly _know what she had just implied. Of course not—Rosette was unaware of the "other side". To her, there were two kingdoms in the world: the animals, and the humans. Demons did not play into any equation, and Kate was not going to add more numbers any time soon.

"It was a joke, geez," Rosette muttered, disturbed over her mother's reaction. "You looked like you were going to go into a coma when I said that."

"I might have," Kate snapped. She stood up and walked over to her desk. Papers were organized into their proper receptacles and the only thing out of place was a pen sitting in the middle atop a checkbook. Rosette, strain as much as she could, was unable to see what it was written out to.

Rosette glanced down at the stain on her skirt again. That wasn't going to come out so easily. Washing it quickly would probably be her best course of action. "Sister Kate," she called, addressing her by the woman's proper title. She was a nun of some sort, after all. Rosette just wasn't sure what type, and Kate never bothered to tell her. "I'm going now."

"Rosette."

She stopped at the door. Her hand rested against the cool golden knob in the center. "Yes?" she called back wearily, not bothering to around. The heat had made her slothful.

"Don't ever go to the basement."

What an odd request, Rosette thought. It was a general, elusive appeal that could've meant anything to Rosette. Peculiar that Kate would mention such a thing and not elucidate on the subject…

"Yes, sister."

She'd never _dream _of doing it.

OooO

This was killing her.

Rosette stepped out of her beat-up red truck, the kind that made a deafening roar when started up. Kate had taken the nice, black Sedan that she liked to cruise around with, and she was stuck with the bottom of the pot. As she closed the door she had to be careful not to slam it, lest the whole thing fall off it's hinges.

"If I was a nun," Rosette whispered to herself as she ascended the steps of the prison. "If I had some crazy daughter who wanted to talk to demons…"

The guards winked at her as she passed, apparently noticing her change in garb. Because of the rising temperatures, Rosette had trashed her lampshade skirt and donned a dress that had slits halfway up her thigh. Her black spandex shone through under the dark blue attire (which she was starting to discover was her favorite color). She wore a heavy lead cross the size of her palm around her neck and had a brown belt with a few capsules of holy water on it. Archaic and childish, she had to admit, but the overall effect was amazing. She felt like a holy warrior.

Her sturdy brown boots _thunk, thunked _as she walked into the concrete halls of the prison. Instead of pacing down the endless corridors of prisoners, though, she made a quick left into the receptionist's office. A middle-aged woman sat behind a faded wooden desk, chewing gum and flipping through papers with bright pink panther claws. She glanced up as Rosette stood in front of her.

"What can I do ya for, honey?"

Rosette made a quick glance around the room. Walls painted a gentler yellow and shelves stacked with books of various genres. A water cooler in the corner and pictures of flowers on the walls. All were meant to calm and soothe, something that was crucial when dealing with convicts. She wasn't looking for anger-surged convicts though. She was looking for evidence that Kate the Ninja might be spying on her.

Comforted that Kate didn't have cameras planted anywhere, Rosette asked, "Where is the basement?"

If the secretary's disposition had been sugary before, now it was as sour and cautious as a dried salamander. "Oh, toots, I don't kno' _whatt _you're talking about."

"You _must_ have a basement," Rosette pushed. She could see the way those inch long nails nervously tapped on the table. She saw the way her gauzy eyes glanced anxiously around the room.

"Honey, an extra floor for this establishment would take wads more of funds," the lady said, regaining her calm a little. Her hands didn't shake as much, but her eyes still darted.

"Funds?" Rosette's mind flashed back to the check sitting on Kate's desk. It was sickening how quickly her mind snapped back to that. It was even more perturbing how she could already picture the words "New York Penitentiary" on it.

"Well, say there was another floor," Rosette rapidly changed tactics. "What would be there?"

The receptionist sighed. She set down the stack of papers that she had been filtering for the last few minutes. She took out another piece of gum and popped it into her mouth. "Oh, I don't know."

"Can you guess?" Rosette pleaded a little. She glanced quickly down at the name plaque on the woman's desk. "Mrs. Partone, you seem like you sure know a lot about this jail…" It wouldn't hurt to fluff her plumage a little.

Mrs. Partone gazed at her testily. Finally she replied, "Well, I'd imagine that's where they'd keep the most harmless of criminals."

She had been trying to slight-hand Rosette; unfortunately Rosette knew all about that tactic. If panther claws said the most harmless of criminals, then she meant the most dangerous. If she said there was no basement, then there sure as hell was.

"And what would one have to do to get into this basement?" Rosette asked with a smile that alarmed the secretary.

"Well, however you get into imaginary basements," the secretary shot back in an annoyed tone. Rosette quickly followed her course of action.

"And does the imaginary basement have an elevator or stairs—"

"Babe, don't you have some convicts to convert?" Mrs. Partone demanded. Her hand slid inconspicuously beneath the table, where a button would alarm the guards and drag the interrogating girl out. She hoped it would not come to that, since the blonde was a kind little thing after all. Rosette had managed to placate more men than she had ever done.

"I just want to see the basement," Rosette snapped, becoming irked. "I know you have one."

The old hag wouldn't give in! The lady was going to drown in her lies. Rosette internally sighed. She'd break into the forsaken jail if that's what it took to see the basement. "Let me—"

"ROBERT!" The lady screeched impulsively, not even bothering with the guard's button. This teen was sending her bonkers. Rosette momentarily shrunk back in fear, recognizing that Robert was the warden of the penitentiary. He was often seen walking around with a beating stick and a rifle. She didn't want to be on the end of either (or both) of them.

"Edna, don't you go screaming like that!" An irritated man said as a door labeled Robert Shelk, **Warden**, was thrown open half way. "The hell is going on?"

"The visiting nun keeps asking about a _basement_!" Mrs. Partone shrieked. With all of the shouting going on, Rosette could clearly see the white gum rolling around in the woman's mouth. It wasn't a comforting sight. If anything it made Rosette's stomach do a turn for the worst. She was very, extremely nervous.

Rosette also caught the way she said basement. She said it like you would say "Oh, _that one_." Rosette thought that maybe it would serve her right to go to an acting class. She was sure an easy person to read.

"Basement, eh?" Robert had a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth like a wet noodle. Rosette fought the urge to crinkle her nose in disgust. "We don't got a basement, lady."

Rosette frowned. She felt like she was on those shows where everyone played a practical joke. Everyone was in on it and she was be the only one caught unawares. They were so adamant about their lies that Rosette was nearly falling for them. Nearly.

"I know you do," Rosette tried, conscious of the warden's defensive stance. She was praying that he wouldn't decide to run her over like a footballer.

"We don't."

"I have a confirmation number," Rosette said, remembering how each prisoner had a number identification. The numbers were used to easily locate the convicts' information in the computer's database. It also served to dehumanize the criminals. It was easier to condemn them when they just appeared as a jumble of numbers.

They didn't budge for a moment. She continued. "And a name." She knew numbers were often less attainable than names, but she figured having both would make her more believable.

The warden peered scrupulously at her. The cigarette butt was burning dangerously close to his lips. "And what name would that be?" He was humoring her, she knew.

Rosette's back stiffened. What name? What name was there to give? Would they recognize it if she made a name up? Her mind went into a sudden flashback. _"I want a demon_." She frowned at the memory. Would that be of any use to her now? She wasn't sure if saying _that _name would go in her favor but…

"Mephistopheles."

The warden broke into uncontrolled laughter. Apparently he thought she had said some incredibly long made-up joke. The cigarette fell out of his mouth and landed on the floor. It was crushed underfoot as the man stomped his foot on the ground, unable to quell his roars. Rosette's whole frame shook but she didn't dare laugh or show anger. She wasn't sure what he was laughing so hard about anyways.

"The hell is that?" he demanded, righting himself. He had tears in his eyes. Rosette's eyes were cold on him. He disgusted her. She couldn't believe how clueless he really was. How'd he get to be appointed warden? He didn't even know if he knew left from right.

Mrs. Patone had an opposite reaction though. She had frozen completely behind her desk, utterly petrified. Her hand was perched in midair, stopped in time. She looked like a statue. Slowly she looked at Rosette's face. "You—" she stopped herself. She managed to break herself out of her stupor for a second. She turned to address the chuckling man. "It's the name of the devil, Robert."

_"I want a demon."_

Those words produced haunting effects on people, Rosette was quickly learning. Why did words like demon, devil, and evil cause such fear and hate in people's hearts? They were mythical creatures, after all. Nothing to worry…right?

"Oh." His eyes had turned to steel in a few seconds. Rosette couldn't help but glance nervously at the gun in his holster. She was regretting ever coming into the office.

"I just wanted a challenge," Rosette suddenly blubbered. She couldn't stand it. She had to somehow try to cover up her foolish words. "I heard a rumor that there was an extra floor, and I was curious. I just—" she pulled on the grace words of her mother. "I just wanted to save more people."

Those words weren't having the positive effect Rosette was praying for.

"Some _things_ can't be saved," Mr. Shelk said with vitriol. Rosette didn't miss how somehow the noun had switched from _people _to _things_. She was getting the creeps just listening to him.

"Every_one_ can be saved," Rosette asserted, her cerulean eyes burning. This man was more than disgusting; he was a repulsive, sickening monster. She wanted him to disappear into the center of the earth.

A hand wrapped around her wrist suddenly. He had surged forward without her realizing it. His grubby hands were hot and uncomfortable on her thin wrists. A scream tore from her throat before she could even think.

"Let me go!" Rosette snarled, trying to punch and kick the man. He evaded her easily. He dragged her out the office, where Mrs. Partone stood, shooting death daggers at her. She had a feeling that a visit to the secretary office wasn't a friendly offer in the future. The woman looked as if she'd be glad if she never saw Rosette's face again.

With the warden's hand around her wrist, Rosette believed that wasn't far from true.

Rosette was forced into a room that she was completely unfamiliar with. Her heart jumped to her mouth and she became frantic.

"Where are you taking me?" She didn't like the feeling of Mr. Shelk's hand on her bare arm. It felt too intimate and unwanted.

"The basement."

The door they had traveled through did not lead into a room but a long, dark hallway. It was twenty degrees cooler in here, and it only got worse as they walked further down. The lights overhead flickered, giving Rosette an intense morbid feeling. If it weren't for the man dragging her along she would've been scared out of her wits.

At the end of the mile long corridor was an elevator door. Mr. Shelk reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a key with a vertical black bar on one side. He slid it through a pad on the wall. The pad blinked a small green square and the elevator doors creaked open ominously. Rosette half expected smoke and flames to billow out as it opened.

"Come on," he snapped, trying to pull her in. For a moment she resisted, fearing being in a close confinement with the man. She didn't want to be raped in an elevator. She finally consented though, cursing her choice of the skimpy dress all the while.

"You wanted a challenge?" he demanded, as the elevator came to a stop. It opened up into an even darker passageway. This one was much larger than the last though. Heavily armed guards stood on either side of the door. Even more of them stood between each cell.

She assumed them to be cells. They did not have the standard metal white bars that she was used to seeing. Skimpy little padlocks didn't hold them together. These cells were gargantuan sized transparent walls that looked as if they had three-foot-thick plastic encasing them. Even more peculiar, heavyset crosses were engraved into every corner of every cell, created what looked like a giant barrier. Rosette wasn't sure she wanted to know what required such confinement.

It was freezing down here. Not only in the physical sense, either. Every other part of her felt restricted, too. Her _soul_ felt chained and it was a little difficult for her to breathe. She didn't know why, but she felt like her heart was going to collapse.

She thought they were going to continue walking down the oppressive, dark hallway, but the warden stopped her. She wished he wouldn't. She was struggling to breathe and she wanted to escape the place as soon as possible.

"You said everyone can be saved," he whispered, a sadistic smile turning his lips. "But does that apply for demons, too?"

"Yes," she whispered, finding it hard to keep her senses. The conditions were making her scatterbrain. "Please…"

But the warden shook his head at her. He grabbed her wrist roughly and hauled her down the hallway. They passed by guards whose eyes were so vapid and dark that Rosette thought they were vampires. They had to be _something _inhuman to stay in such conditions. He pulled her further down.

_Slam! _A terrifying sound alerted her senses. It sounded like an explosion. There was a static noise and then a faint, horrible roar. Her whole body felt cajoled. She was losing her mind. What the hell _was _that? She couldn't regain herself enough to look.

"You'll receive your Mephistopheles," he whispered. His voice sounded like a far away condemnation.

They finally stopped moving. She was in a near coma-like state. He grabbed her by the shoulders and roughly pushed her against the large plastic wall. Her forehead thudded against it painfully and she was forced to stare into the cell's dark depths.

At first she saw nothing. It was difficult to penetrate through the darkness. Then something caught her eye.

It took only a moment for her to focus. As she recognized what they were her temperature dropped another ten degrees. She had lost touch with her limbs. She was immobile.

Piercing, heated, ruby red eyes.

The eyes of a demon.

OooO

A/N: So how was it? I felt like I cut a lot of things short. Overall though I think it's OK.

The first religious reference in the story is when Rosette says she's saved forty men in all. Forty is a very symbolic number that is usually associated with hardship. Forty is going to be a _very _important number in this story.

I tried to keep Rosette as in character as I could, considering the situations. This isn't set before World War II as it is in the manga and anime. Rosette is pretty clueless about militia, demons, and other things that are very important in the original story. Also, because she didn't grow up with Chrno or Joshua, I think her personality would be different. It'll become more in character as the story progresses though.

Read and tell me what you think!


	2. Chrono

A Faustian Bargain 

Chapter 2: Chrono 

OooO

_I do come shackled with whatever people think I am. _

_-Kelly Lynch _

OooO

_ Piercing, heated, ruby red eyes. _

_ The eyes of a demon._

"Lookit that piece of shit."

Rosette was looking, all right. The wine-colored eyes gazed back at her, as sad and morbid as the falling rain. Long purple hair hung in a curtain around the demon's face, the color astounding against his pallid features. Leathery black wings sagged behind his back, torn in several places. Next to his mile-long legs Rosette first believed that his spine had popped out of his body. Upon more examination though, she could that it was a tail of some sort, ending in a deadly point. His fingers ended in the same sharpness.

He was chained up. Everywhere Rosette looked, metal links and weights were barring him down. He had two-inch wide cuffs around his wrists, held down by several chain links that secured him to the ground. His legs were bound down in three places-his ankle, his calf, and his thigh. More manacles extended across the wall behind him to bound his chest. Rosette had never seen something so shackled in her entire life.

"Mephistopholes," she whispered, having the overwhelming feeling to cry. He was nothing more than a circus animal chained up for the guard's amusement. How long had he been locked up like that?

"Hey!" Mr. Shelk was rapping on the plastic like a kid knocking on a fishbowl. "Stand up!" he demanded, roaring at his own joke. Rosette, still watching the demon, saw him weakly lift his arms but was unable to give himself any slack. Rosette's anger quickly turned on the warden.

"Stop it!" Rosette yelled at him, reaching out to grab the arm that was doing the knocking. "Leave him alone!" Mr. Shelk laughed, and before Rosette could process it he had slapped her across the face. She stumbled back, mouth agape in shock.

"Shut up, ya dumb bitch," the warden snapped. "He doan know what I'm doing. He's just some animal."

Unawares to the warden, the demon slowly lifted his head to watch them.

Rosette's face was on fire, and so was her blood. "You're the animal around here!" She screeched, throwing herself at him again. She managed to get one punch in on his chest before the vampire guards were restraining her. Their leather gloves squeezed her arms so hard that it forced all the air out of her body.

"Hold her still," the warden commanded. He fluidly slid the beating stick out of his belt. It was a long silver rod that could crack a man's skull in if swung hard enough. Rosette's heart went wild when she realized that he might just hit _her _with it.

That wasn't the case though. Instead he turned and started banging it on the wall of the cell. The sound it made was ear splitting. The demon's eyes slowly narrowed, and he began to tug at his manacles again. Rosette strained against the guards too, trying to make eye contact with the demon. Both shared in a helpless sort of desperation. One of the guards stood in her way, barring her vision.

Then Mr. Shelk turned to her. Rosette's blood went cold. "Miss Christopher," he clucked in a disparaging tone. "Finding it hard to breathe down here, aren't you?" Rosette couldn't answer him; she was too busy tearing him up in her mind. "I guess that's expected, since this place is _seeping _with despair. Pretty little thing like you probably can't handle all the evilness down here…"

"Screw you," Rosette panted out. It left her short of breath, but by darn it was worth it.

"_Oomph!"_ she hacked as the warden's stick swung into her stomach. She was in shock for a moment, and then let out a deafening scream as the pain set in. Her rib felt broken.

Another roar accompanied her own scream. Despite the thick wall between them, Rosette heard it as clearly as crystal. It shook her to the core. The sound was unlike anything she'd heard before. She was sure no other animal could make a sound as livid as that.

"Oh, he's pissed now," one of the guards said.

"Like hell he is," the warden chuckled out. He grabbed her by the hair, making her scream more. The guards kept her from lashing out at him. The warden shoved her up against the plastic, her forehead and nose painful squished. Another roar came, nearly shattering her eardrums. She yelled again, because she was both terrified and because the sound was making her head throb.

Since she was being forced against the plastic, Rosette stared into the cell once again. The demon was watching her intently, his mouth open slightly to reveal deadly fangs. His chest heaved against the confines of the chains. His arms pulled insistently at the cuffs, and Rosette found herself urging him on in her mind. She desperately wanted to free him.

Mr. Shelk didn't laud the moment as much as she did though. While she was trying to fathom what the demon was _really _like, he began to resume banging on the barrier. No matter how much the sound drove the demon crazy, he was powerless to cease it.

"She's looks tasty, doesn't she?" the warden yelled, laughing. Rosette glared at him angrily, watching the demon's eyes in her peripheral vision. His body remained immobile but his eyes were quite active. He was becoming irate. The warden realized this too, and in a bout of spontaneity, struck Rosette across the face again. She cried out and the demon made another hideous shriek.

"I don't think it likes it when you hit her," one of the guards muttered. Mr. Shelk just laughed boisterously in his face. He laughed so hard spittle came out of his mouth. He had a few crooked teeth. Rosette wanted to knock them back into his throat.

"_Doesn't like it_? That **_thing_** looks at her and sees either something to screw or something to devour. It doesn't care about her." He laughed again and grabbed her by the front her shirt. The material twisted and wrinkled in his hands. "Here, I'll show you."

He nodded over to the end of the hallway. The guards frowned. "You think that's a good idea?" one of them questioned. "It might just tear her up…"

It wasn't an understatement to say that Rosette was extremely alarmed. "What are you doing to me?" she demanded.

"Shut up!" Mr. Shelk snapped at her. He turned back to the guards. "And it's _fine_. He's all chained up anyways. The whelp wanted to come down here too. Wanted to _save_ a demon. Can't do that if she's behind a three foot wall, can she?"

The guards glanced dubiously at each other. "I don't know…." One of them whispered. "It hasn't had human contact like that for nearly a decade…it might freak out."

Mr. Shelk just smirked at them. He slid the beating stick back into place and readjusted his trousers. "That makes for a better show then, doesn't it?"

In that her fate was sealed.

"Let me go ya bastards!" she screamed and hollered as they dragged her around the back of the cells. Through another high security door was a dimly lit and faintly green-glowing testing center. Crosses hung from every corner and there was a sickening array of torture devices and scalpels. Rosette's screams turned fainter as she entered the room. Her stomach wasn't holding up so well and she still felt light in the head.

"Number 0077," the guards announced, standing her in front of a behemoth doorway. A huge Celtic cross barred the way. It took a card swipe, a guard identification, and several code entries to finally unlock it.

"Lucky number seven," one of the guards said, grabbing her by the wrist. He hauled her forward and pushed her up against the crack of the door. "Ain't no way in hell we're going in there, so we're just gonna throw you in real quick, alright sweets?"

"Better with him than you," she grounded out with vitriol.

The door made a tremendous creaking sound as Mr. Shelk and the guard dragged it open. It was barely a foot and a half wide when the guard roughly shoved her through the opening. Although she didn't resist, the guards still kicked her in. She landed on the ground with a sharp yell, the assortment of chains digging into her injured rib. She rolled onto her side with a groan.

The breathing was not much easier in here than it was out there. She still felt like a man recoiling from intense heat. Her rib felt fractured and she was beginning to hallucinate that it was impaling her stomach and inconspicuously bleeding out her insides. Seeing the myriad of lead chains was making her senile, she believed.

The walls were made of a black, unyielding stone and it was very cold. She could see the room in its entirety and there was no bed or even a toilet. Did he sleep? Urinate? She worried about the last time he'd eaten too. The floor held the same texture and temperature as the walls: frigid, grainy, and merciless.

Her ears were sensitive enough to pick up breathing, and Rosette became fully aware of where she really was. In what she hoped was an unnoticeable manner, she managed to shy away from the demon, putting a good seven or so feet between them. Although she felt sorrow at his predicament, it did not lessen the fact that being near him was intimidating.

The demon growled softly and then let out a cough. She frowned behind her curtain of blonde hair. She glanced quickly over at the demon, seeing his eyes clench as he swallowed. He looked like he was in pain. Even worse, the cough made it sound like there was nothing in his lungs. He was parched.

"Are you OK?" Rosette finally managed to ask, looking up at the demon. Intimidating, yes. She still couldn't shake a feeling of empathy for him though.

The demon's head drooped as he looked away. His chin hit his chest and Rosette thought for one startling moment that he had fainted. Then he answered, "I should be asking you that."

Rosette's mouth made an 'O' in shock. Velvet—that's all Rosette could think of. A rich, dark burgundy velvet blanket that wrapped around her frame and lulled her to sleep. The voice was a deep baritone that had a potential to be irresistibly seductive. Although she wasn't known for her daily contact with men, Rosette was sure that no other human male in the world sounded just like he did.

"Maybe," she said, a sudden feeling of complacency settling over her. She knew that any one in their right mind would be dashing for the hills. For some unexplainable reason though, she didn't feel like she was in any immediate harm. It had nothing to do with the chains, either. She thought that maybe it stemmed from the 'concern' he showed when she was struck.

"You shouldn't look so calm," the demon murmured in disapproval. His dry throat created a tone that was both husky and reproving. She nodded her head in agreement.

"I know."

Ever so slowly she slid her body over the chains, pulling herself closer to his body. The initial feeling of fear was slowly subsiding and she had an overwhelming urge to see him up close. The demon did not approve of this though, as his head shot up and he glared at her warningly.

"It's better if you stay back."

Rosette shook her head. "Why?" She glanced speedily at the chains and noted how compactly they wrapped around his body. The skin underneath them looked white and too tender for words. She just wanted to let him go. Was that too much to ask?

"Don't come!" The demon snapped, watching as she got within four feet of him. Unbeknownst to her, being in close proximity was hard enough for him. His chest ached with the need for human contact, but he couldn't allow himself the privilege. The last time he'd touched a woman…no. He wasn't going to let this poor girl any closer to him than she deserved.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, when she reached out a curious hand to finger his tail. She quickly recoiled, hearing his tone of voice. He groaned in frustration, his head hitting the back of the wall as he leaned back. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"Am I…'posed to be?"

Rosette was crossing over a lot of invisible but definite lines, she knew, but she couldn't help it. Her lungs were close to bursting (which is why she was beginning to sound like an uneducated pig) and she was locked in a room with a male. Not just any male either, but a demon with claws sharp enough to penetrate the spinal chord. She was sure that went under Kate's list of Things Rosette Should **Definitely **Not Do.

"They want me to do something to you," he murmured, his beautiful voice traveling easy over the distance between them. "If you stay away from me and refrain from talking, they might let you out."

Rosette had an intense temptation to say that she would _never_ want to be let out to go back with those men, but a quick look at his face told her he was in no mood to argue with her. She sighed softly and settled uncomfortably over the plethora of chains, trying as best she could to keep her hands to herself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, getting the distinct feeling that she was intruding. Without waiting for an answer she laid back down, pressing her cheek against the cold surface of the floor. Lying and keeping silent were more merciful on her lungs and she nearly believed that she could stay like that for a while. She was locked in with a demon, she was going to die from lack of oxygen, and all was swell.

"Don't—" he began, watching her prone form.

_ Ping. Ping. Pingpingping._

The warden was banging on the cell wall again.

The warden was not happy that they were keeping their distance. Apparently she was cutting into his pornography reading time and he wanted compensation for that. She glared over at him, realizing how easy it was to locate where the sound was coming from. True, it was muffled by the plastic, but there was nothing that could veil where it was really coming from.

"Curse it," she heard the demon growl. A faint clicking sound drifted into her ear. A second later the cell became so blindingly bright that Rosette nearly saw God. She clenched her eyes shut, feeling like a celebrity trying to escape from the paparazzi.

And then the noise. It sounded like a million gates were being thrown open all at once. She was sure even the entrance to heaven didn't have a noise as riotous as the one she heard now. The shackles trembled beneath her legs and she had to firmly rest her hand on the floor to assure herself there wasn't an earthquake. She felt like she was five seconds away from being pulled asunder and hurtled to the center of the earth.

A sharp hissing sound made her eyes shoot open. She looked up to where the demon was…and saw an empty wall. Her scream died in her throat.

Hastily scampering to her feet, Rosette took in the new scene before her. Chains lay uselessly on the floor, no longer pulled taut against the ground. They now twisted and lay scattered like dead snakes. Cuffs were opened and without anything to hold. Blood that had been coating the other shackles was quickly congealing.

Rosette heard a loud rush of air and turned to look behind her. The demon was standing against the wall furthest from her, his hand braced against it for support. His chest had an assortment of bruises and every breath he took seemed to upset his body. He looked near collapse.

"What're you doing?" she demanded, not fully comprehending how he was completely unchained. She clambered painfully to her feet and stumbled toward him, one of her hands rubbing her injured side. The demon's eyes became wide as saucers as he held up his hand menacingly.

"Don't."

The warden was banging on the walls still. A swift glance in his direction told her he was the cause of the chains being released. She sighed. The man had a rape on his mind, she knew. She had a feeling though that even a small poke of the finger was a long way off with this demon.

"Please," Rosette said, holding her hands out, palms up. It alarmed the demon how unaware she was. Didn't she know what that looked like? Surely she knew what it meant to offer oneself to a devil…

"Sit down and don't touch me," he commanded, his lovely voice so full of quiet anger that she nearly complied with him. He was _much_ more effective than Kate ever hoped to be—she should've been taking lessons from him.

"What's your name?" Rosette insisted, remembering how the criminals would often calm down once they realized she meant no harm. "I'm a nun," she added, not completely telling a lie. "I can help."

'_A nun? Kill me.'_ The girl really was running bat-blind into a trap. The demon couldn't help but curse every deity out there for fitting him with her. Not did she emanate purity, but she was one of the holy ones, the few beings that he was absolutely **banned** from touching. Just to add to his list of insufferable dealings, she also happened to look just like _her…_

"It's better if you never know who I am," he whispered hoarsely, hating how her pretty face creased in sadness as he rejected her. He didn't understand why she was trying so hard to reach out to him. He was a fallen angel—he was nothing that she would ever want to have or ever even want to be near. He tried to console himself with the fact that she was young (painfully so) and didn't know what she was asking for. It wasn't helping much.

"Listen, I asked to come down here," she whispered, stepping closer. The demon looked close to murdering her for that simple act. Or maybe it was the words she just uttered. "I _wanted _a demon."

"Don't be foolish, girl," he said harshly to her, pushing himself flush against the wall as she refused to stop moving toward him. "I swear—if you—"

"Please," Rosette begged. "I help sinners."

The demon smiled weakly at the irony of it all. She helped _human _sinners, is what she meant. What could she do for him though? Could she really heal a demon was a past painted in blood? Was she good enough to wipe it all away and give him a clean slate? He wanted to believe that…but he was beyond all help's reach.

"Not this sinner," he whispered, shaking his head. She was in front of him now. His breathing had increased substantially and his heart was beating faster than it had in decades. "Don't," he tried again, his last warning.

"I have to," she said simply, and with that she laid her hand against his heart. He held his breath, closing his eyes. This wasn't happening, he attempted to convince himself. He wasn't beat into a corner, unchained for the first time in years. He wasn't standing here, letting a beautiful girl rub his chest as his legs threatened to give out beneath him. He didn't do things like that. He was just a sinner, and it was all he would ever be.

"I'll make a deal with you," she began.

"No," he whispered back quietly, eyes clenching shut. Memories of the _last_ time a girl had said that rose up to meet him, threatening to drown him. Funny, how it was a nun _that_ time too. He seemed to have a special taste for holy masochism. "Don't say that."

He wanted to remove her hand from his chest but he didn't want her to feel his claws. He didn't want to feel her yank her hand back in shock as she touched the hand that had killed many men, both demon and human. He didn't want to have to deal with this reality that she was suddenly heaping on him.

"Why—" she stopped. Her eyes widened. The hand that had been resting serenely against his chest suddenly curled as if she wanted to clench a fist. She didn't make it that far.

She began to fall backwards.

His sensitive hearing quickly picked up her heartbeat. He rapidly realized why she had stopped mid-sentence. Ever so slowly her heart rate was dropping. At the speed it was going, she would die before she even got out of the cell.

"Curse it," he growled, hating how that damn warden was stupid enough to bring her down. He should've known that the darkness was too much for a heart as clean as hers. Really, if she died down in his dungeon they'd have a lawsuit as big as Texas on their hands.

He quickly caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes were frozen wide, and her mouth was parted slightly as she attempted to draw in ragged breaths. Her limbs dangled helplessly at her sides as her lungs fought for sweet oxygen.

His arms wrapped around her lithe form, not letting the sensation of her body against his reach his comprehension. He wasn't going to focus on how warm and small she felt; he wasn't going to allow himself the simple pleasure of thinking about her.

He carried her to the entrance of the cell, where she had been first thrown in. Releasing him was a blind and idiot move on the guards' part, he thought, as he was now able to put his muscles to good use. Settling her down on the floor for a moment (she resisted for a few seconds, grabbing feebly at his tattered shirt) he turned his attention to the monstrous door. There was no handle on this side of the door, but he efficiently made one as his fist impacted and caused a large dent. Even in her hazy state, Rosette couldn't help but be overcome with shock.

It took a few hits on his part to finally render the door useless. He was easily able to tug it open by the large, mammoth sized depression he had created in its side. When he pulled it open, two guards stood in front of it, guns lax at their sides. Their mouths hung open like basketball hoops.

He had his arms wrapped around her again when he spoke. "She's not breathing," he growled, red eyes bearing into the guard on the left. He was vacillating between shooting the demon and running for his dear life. Upon hearing the words though, he broke out of his stupor, yelling a string of expletives.

"Boss!" he screamed, running out to get the warden. His voice faded in the distance as he entered the hallway. "Boss, she's dying!"

The demon turned his bloody gaze onto the remaining guard. He remembered this one—the guard had a disgusting fancy for kicking him in the balls whenever he had the opportunity. The female in his arms was the only thing keeping the demon from ripping the defenseless guard to shreds.

The warden was back with the screaming guard seconds later. "Shit," he cussed, seeing Rosette's pale face and hearing her rattling sighs. "Get her out of here." He focused his eyes on the demon. "And you, get your ass back in that cell."

The demon didn't nod but instead released her from his hold. Although he hated the warden to the end of the earth, he knew that Mr. Shelk would let the girl go. He was smart enough to want to avoid any form of lawsuit. She would be free to breathe and live again. She would never step foot inside of the basement ever again. When she got married and had children, her meeting with him would all but be wiped clear from her mind.

That is, if she let go of his shirt.

"No," she gasped, hanging feebly onto him. The demon couldn't believe it. She was hanging by a thread for her life, and she couldn't leave him behind. Why was she torturing herself? Was she suicidal?

"What should we do?" one of the guards asked, watching the girl reach for the demon. _Never _had any one reached out for the creature like that.

The warden glanced at both of them. "Fuck it," he muttered. He grabbed the girl and threw her back into the arms of the demon. The demon looked about ready to let her fall to the ground than take her. "Take her."

"No," he ground out, moving back into the cell, pushing her toward them. "I won't."

"Shit boy, if you don't take her now, I'll kill every one of those prisoners up there and claim it was your doing," the warden threatened. "I'm not dealing with you anymore, ya hear that? You've been kept here for decades. Hell, see if I care if you go and massacre a whole other town." He pointed his finger to Rosette. "But if that dumb bitch dies down here, I'm in trouble, all right? So you take her, get her out of my damn sight, and go cause havoc in some other state."

The burgundy-eyed demon couldn't believe his ears. Was he being _released_? After all those years of imprisonment, he was being released on a _whim_? All for what, the puny creature in his arms?

The desperate heaving thing in his arms decided for him. With a growl venomous enough to poison a rock, he swiftly exited the lab. When he reached the hallway his stiff muscles shifted into action and he was able to fly over to the elevator. The guards easily let him pass as he boarded. The doors shut with a minute hiss and he was left alone in the space, a gasping girl in his arms.

"You'll be fine," he murmured, taking in her pained expression. His eyes were trained on her face, not once wandering lower. As the elevator rose higher her breathing returned with more confidence. By the time they had completely ascended, she was breathing easier and was resting her chest against his bloodied chest.

He walked down the dark hallway, out into the reception area. To the right he could see a bright yellow office with a woman inside. Seeing her sitting behind the desk, chewing gum, made him painfully aware that he was not human. His wings were already causing enough of a problem. He shrank back into the dark hallway, realizing the place was covered in policemen. Mr. Shelk might've set him free, but he had a feeling every one else wouldn't be that accepting.

"Hey," a small voice in his arms said. He looked down to see bright blue eyes staring up at him. "I can get you a jacket."

He frowned. "And how are you proposing that? You're in enough trouble as it is."

"_We're _in trouble," she reminded him. "Put me down." He willingly complied with her offer, needing to rid himself of her glorious heat. Years without contact…and then this? It was doing wonders for his sanity.

He watched uneasily (and a little curiously) as Rosette walked casually up to a coat rack in the corner of the 'regular' hallway. His eyes widened as she deftly grabbed one of the coats and walked back to it. He vehemently shook his head.

"No."

She shook the jacket at him. "Yes," she said. "We can't walk out of here with your wings sticking out like road signs. You have to cover yourself up until we can get back to my house."

"I'm not going anywhere," the demon ground out, moving back. "I belong down _there_."

Rosette took his hand. He jolted from the touch but she did not recoil as her fingers ran over his claws. "Do you _really _believe that? Come on, you were just granted arbitrary freedom. You should enjoy it."

"I deserve being down there."

Rosette helped him into the coat. "Oh, stop it. Your depression can sink the Titantic."

"Come on," she whispered, noticing how the demon was purposely not following her out. She sighed as he attempted to walk back to the elevator. "Hey!" She grabbed his hand. His eyes widened for a second, feeling her delicate fingers resting in his hand that was covered in dried blood. "_Come on._"

"No."

She glanced back into the hallway. From here she could see the receptionist. The old hag had gotten another piece of gum. "Will you melt in the sunlight?" Rosette asked, glancing back at the demon to gauge to his expression. He was frowning at her.

"No."

She smiled and tugged his hand forward. "Then lets go." They stepped out into the corridor, passing by the receptionist's office without her realizing it. They passed by a number of policemen, none of them giving the time of day. He couldn't believe how oblivious they were. They walked out of the entrance, passing by the same guards from that morning. If they found it odd that she had come in alone and left with a new companion, they did not say anything.

Hand-in-hand, Rosette and the demon traveled down the steps toward her beat up truck. _Miraculously_ no one had stolen it. She liked to believe that had it been stolen, only good could've resulted from it. And besides…_he _could've just flown her home.

"What's your name?" she asked as she unlocked his side of the car. He refused to get in. She wasn't looking forward to forcing him inside the house. She had to wonder if she should go back to get some chains from his cell. She was sure she'd have to bind him to the car seat to prevent him from throwing himself out the window.

He didn't answer. She put her hands on her hips. "Hey, I have a rule. I have to know your name before you can ride in my car. It keeps my virtue safe."

He was in his right mind to tell her that her virtue had been destroyed the moment she held his hand. He just shook his head though. "What kind of rule is that?"

"_My _rule. Hurry up; my mom is going to kill me. I'm an hour late!"

He sighed and bent down to wrap his hand around the door handle. "Chrono," he answered finally. "Happy now?"

Rosette laughed. "Yes, Chrono Happy Now." He frowned at her and slowly slid himself into the car, grimacing as he was forced to lean against his wings. He couldn't shake the effect off of all that happened. Not to mention, he was also wearing a stolen jacket and was about to ride in a car with a young nun.

"My mom is going to kill me," she said conversationally. "Not just for being late either." She rubbed her rib one more time, frowning at the pain it was giving her. She glanced over at him, seeing how he was tugging in irritation at the jacket that was too short on him. "Oh, don't go yanking your wings out when I'm driving. I'm not that good to begin with and you might scare me," she warned.

He snorted. "I'll try not to puke."

Rosette smiled and started up the car.

OooO

A/N: How was it? I went through three versions of this before finally deciding on this. This doesn't even have the actual _deal_ in it either! That's coming next chapter.

Chrono is so resigned and depressed, huh? I had to think for a while if I wanted him chained or not. It was also hard for me to decide what Rosette's reaction would be. My first version had her as terrified as hell, and I didn't like the atmosphere it created. The next one she was _way_ too curious (almost to the point of being dirty). In the end though I think this one is sufficient enough.

Thank you for those that reviewed! I appreciate it a lot. It really motivates me, and I need a lot of that! It's intimidating writing in a new area, after all.

Next chapter: Rosette's a thief! And Kate discovers that Rosette brought home a "pet"…

Review or I will refuse to write! Ha!


	3. Rosette the Thief

A Faustian Bargain

Chapter 3: Rosette the Thief

OooO

_Opportunity makes a thief._

_-Francis Bacon_

OooO

Kate was chopping up old credit cards into minuscule slivers that littered her desk when her fax machine started humming. Frowning, mainly because her fax machine was only _ever _used to send bills, the nun strode over to the machine. It beeped and whirred as it chugged out a single piece of paper, formatted as a letter.

The letter was addressed strictly to her. Unfortunately, the letter was not a secret love confession, but a complaint…about her daughter. Apparently her daughter was so randy and uncontrollable that the letter had come straight from the most holy warden of the prison _himself_. Rosette was in _trouble_…for whatever it was she did. Whatever she did at that prison, she'd be cleaning toilets for a month to make up for it!

Kate's sanity became unhinged when she read the body of the letter. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…" she muttered, choking the pair of scissors painfully in her hand.

"You're **_dead_**, Rosette Christopher."

OooO

If Rosette thought stealing a demon from his cage was a splendid idea…well, she was having second thoughts. She had to grab him by the back of his trousers to keep him from flying out the window once. She had to scream like a newborn to prevent him from touching anything that could possibly cause them to go flying off a cliff (steering wheel, clutch, and windshield wipers included). She was sure that if he had attempted to tear off the rickety door he would've been able to do it with just his pinkie.

Thank heavens he didn't try that.

So now she didn't know what to do. There was a big hulking mass sitting next to her, disgruntled at her behavior but not completely put out. Keeping the demon's ass glued to the car seat had kept her occupied on the ride over, but now that she sat in front of a house she was lost. They sat quietly in the car, her hands idly resting on the steering wheel. The man next to her wasn't particularly looking to start a conversation either.

"Is this your house?"

Rosette glanced over at the demon. His neck was bent a little so that he could fit in the small cab of the vehicle. He really was extraordinarily large for a male. "No."

He glanced back at her, his nose scrunched up. His face clearly told her he thought she was ridiculous. "Then why are we sitting in front of it?"

She sighed and patted the steering wheel. "She'll hear the car. I have to sneak you in—"

"If you have to do _that_, I'm not coming with you."

Her hands tightened on the wheel. She angled her head toward his handsome face. "Look, you—"

"Don't try to assert your authority over me, human," he snapped back. She could see his fangs pointing out from the sides of his leathery lips. She frowned and stared out the dirty windshield of her hopeless car. Really, that wasn't the reaction she was hoping for. She wanted to punch him in the face.

'_That would go well,' _she thought. She let her eyes shift to his form again. His size was unnerving. His hair was currently curtaining his face, and she could see long, pointed ears behind the veil of purple. Her eyes traveled upward to glance cautiously at the sharp set of horns protruding out of his head. Those didn't look like something a girl would want to cuddle with any time soon. Of course, his face made up for all the pointy things that the rest of his body possessed.

Rosette bit her lip. Why she had thought that? What a crazy thing to think. As if a bad-tempered demon like him would ever want to be held by anyone.

"I'm not, _demon_," she finally sneered, getting annoyed at how hard he was trying to differentiate them. "I just need to talk to my mom before I let her see you, OK? I've never even had a male _friend _before…having you pop in might be too much for her heart to bear."

Chrono watched her with curious eyes. She had _never _had a male friend before? Then what the hell was she doing with **_him_**? If she never had any male friends then she'd never dated anyone and she'd never…Chrono bit his lip. He was becoming painfully aware of how young the human girl really was. Just sitting in the car with her was wholly wrong on a million different levels.

What would happen if he…and if he wanted…what if he couldn't control it?

Being in the closed confines of the car, surrounded by her scent, was making him mad in the head. This day wasn't going to bode well for him, he knew. He was already turning senile…and surely he was old enough to! He was positive he was nearly a century her senior.

Noticing her pale white hands on the steering wheel, he exhaled softly. "You're hands are white," he whispered, watching as his voice broke her out of her stupor. She shook her head as if thinking something silly, and quickly removed her hands from the wheel. She folded them conservatively in her lap. Then she changed her mind and began running them through her hair.

"What's wrong?" Rosette asked when she noticed that Chrono was half leaning out of the window, keeping his body away from her. Normally, if she'd been with anyone else, she would've teased them that they looked like they had severe constipation. Being with a six foot something demon that didn't seem to eat though, quickly stifled any corny comedic jokes that she had. It seemed that being stuck with a cranky demon squelched a lot of humorous things she would've said.

She didn't know much about demons, clearly. Chrono was currently trying to disengage his nose. If she knew anything about _his _kind, she'd know that a female's scent was particularly strong when she did anything that would involve _wafting_. Whereas a normal boy could only smell the feminine vanilla scent, a demon could smell the girl herself—her skin and her soul.

So if the damn brat would _just stop it--!_

Because Chrono would eat his own toes before telling her that, he tersely stated, "Your driving made me sick."

That was easy enough to believe. Even Rosette had a guilty face. She reached her hand out to rub his back (or something to that effect) but quickly put it down when she saw the look that he gave her. The look that clearly said, "Touch me and I will throw you out the window." Although she didn't have any idea why he never wanted her touch…

"Sorry," Rosette muttered, recalling exactly _how _she'd been driving. No pothole was left un-hit with Rosette Christopher behind the wheel. She couldn't blame Chrono if he was five seconds away from yawning in technicolor.

"Listen," she began, utterly falling for his I-Have-To-Barf-Puppies Act. "I'm going to go inside and talk to my mom…" She glanced meaningfully at him, and because Chrono was a terrible soul that wanted to make her feel bad, he suddenly faked a gag. He didn't think she'd be that gullible but…her face quickly pulled into a grimace. Wonderful! She believed it. She was easier to harass than he originally thought…

She said something else and quickly scampered out of the car, leaving the demon to sit out in the open. He had to wonder what would happen if he decided to go skipping around the neighborhood. Would most of the people even realize what he was? Or would they think that Halloween had come early?

Rosette disappeared around the corner, leaving him in the car to fry. If she came back and he looked like a wilted cabbage…well, that was all her fault. He glanced at the glass to his right. His hand ran over the transparent material, his claws screeching unpleasantly.

"Curse it," he muttered, clawed hand running over the door side. How was the window supposed to be opened? He searched for a few seconds before giving up. "Meh." He could always blow the whole car to pieces if the heat irritated him enough. Besides, it wasn't _that _unbearable…

Five minutes later and Chrono was dreaming of the Antarctic. Good heavens, he was going to catch on fire before the ditzy blonde came back. She'd have to put him out with a fire extinguisher.

Normally, a demon could withstand temperature changes much better than a human could. Although Chrono could've easily stood in a scorching desert hours longer than a normal man, that didn't negate the fact that the heat irritated him. He was prone to getting cranky-crank_ier_-in warm weather. He much rather preferred to be freezing than sweating up to his eyebrows.

"Human's and their contraptions," he muttered, raking his hand along the inside of the door. He finally located a small button with two arrows. He pressed the arrow that pointed down. Nothing happened. Irritated, he pressed it again, but the window didn't budge. Feeling murderously hot, Chrono reached behind him and shed the coat that Rosette had _borrowed_ for him. His wings ached.

Another button push got him nowhere. He was going to murder the entire town if he couldn't get the window down. The temperature in the car had somehow risen to epic proportions, and although Chrono was a patient demon, this was definitely testing him. The window refused to move by safe and logical means. Therefore, it would have to be _forced_ by his own methods…

"I apologize."

OooO

For some reason, Rosette's hand started to quiver as she pulled out her house keys. She shook so badly that she dropped them once before inserting them into the lock. A foreboding feeling engulfed her as she turned the keys. Something behind the door was emanating pure malice.

Of course. Kate was waiting for her in the living room. One glance at her boiling demeanor told the teenager that she was waist deep in cow squat. And unfortunately for her, the squat would just keep rising…

"Rosette Christopher," Kate said, keeping her anger in check. She needed to store up energy for when she dropped the nuclear bomb over the girl's empty head. "Where have you been?"

"I went shopping," she said with a shaky voice. Darn it! She had practiced saying it in the car ride—when she wasn't wrangling with Chrono, of course. It was a simple enough lie, but one look at Kate's face sent her confidence tearing for the hills. It was a wonder she was even able to stand in front of her right now.

She didn't want to know what would happen when Kate saw the **_thing_** in her car.

That is, if he was still in there.

"Hmm." Kate arched her brows at Rosette. She traveled over to the couch in the living room and sat down in it. Rosette was compelled to follow. "And what did you buy?"

"Shoes."

"_Hmm_," Kate repeated with much more emphasis. She paused for a moment before saying the next sentence. "And did you pay for these shoes?"

Rosette frowned. What was she getting at? How _else_ does one go about shopping for shoes? "Of course I did, mom."

A quick glance at her features. Kate was gauging her daughter. Rosette couldn't fathom why. She had expected Kate to descend on her like a banshee (because surely she would've heard about Chrono). But instead they were discussing the matter of buying shoes? What was going on?

"With what money, Rosette?"

She feigned the perfect exasperated daughter look. "Money here and there. I saved up. You don't exactly spoil me rotten with—"

"Rosette, did you steal anything today?"

'_Good question mom! As a matter of fact I have a very attractive demon sautéing in my car right now…'_ "Of course not! Mom! You _know _that you've raised me better than that. I bought the shoes—"

Kate stood up. She looked upset. "You know I don't like it when you lie to me."

"But I didn't _steal _anything!"

"Rosette—"

"I bought the shoes!"

Kate looked ready to slap her. "We're not talking about shoes anymore, Rosette!" She grabbed a letter off their coffee table. "I got a letter from the prison's _warden_. He says you stole something from the prison!"

Hopefully Chrono wasn't going to take that as a cue to come bursting into the room. She pretended—no, she **was**—enraged. "**_Mom_**, why would I steal anything from the prison? The most valuable thing there is a wad of used gum!"

Something flickered in Kate's eyes as if she were about to contradict that. Had Rosette kept herself out from the basement, she wouldn't have known what that look was. Now she knew it all too well. So how long? '_How long had you known about that place?'_

"How could you **steal **something?" Kate demanded. She was absolutely enraged!

"Oh mom!" Rosette cried, angry now. She was probably going overboard with her reactions, but the cow scat was floating up to her neck and she was just as upset. It was a contest between her and Mr. Shelk, and Kate trusted that wretched old bastard? What happened to family ties? Trust? The whole world was damned if the warden was more believable than anyone else in the universe.

"Rosette just tell me—"

"I didn't steal anything!"

"DON'T LIE TO ME ROSETTE CHRISTOPHER!! NOW IF YOU—"

"HOW COULD YOU BELIEVE THAT I'D DO SUCH A THING—"

"HOW DARE YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE AT—"

Just as their argument reached gargantuan proportions, there was a shy knock at the door. Rosette, still flushed over the latest development, nearly went into cardiac arrest. Please—heavens, please—don't let that be Chrono!

Something told her it wasn't though. Somehow she pictured that he'd more likely rip the door off its hinges than _knock_. She wasn't even sure if that word was in his vocabulary.

Kate, very social conscious, quickly took a deep breath and arranged her hair back into place. It had fallen into disarray when their argument became more feverish. She glanced in the mirror, noting her flushed cheeks and heaving chest. She turned back to Rosette, the knocking still ringing insistently in the background.

"We're not finished yet," she promised. She stalked over to the door, peeking through the small hole in the door. A wobbling old lady was bent over the doorstep. Kate threw Rosette a warning glance to behave before unchaining the door and flinging it wide.

"Mrs. Chapin, good afternoon!" Kate said cheerily, holding her hand old for the aged woman. Her neighbor gratefully took her hand and bent over to kiss it.

"Good afternoon, Sister. Pardon my disturbance. I did not mean to interrupt your conversation." Both Rosette and Kate blushed simultaneously, embarrassed that their racket had been subtly pointed out. "But I noticed something as I was walking by your car…"

Gah! Rosette could've hung herself. She knew she should've hid Chrono in some bushes! The car was probably dripping with holy water by now…

Mrs. Chapin's face was pulled with worry—Rosette could tell that much as she craned to see her without looking too suspicious. Rosette stood far away from the door (and her mother) and she wasn't going to compromise their recent argument by sauntering up to hear the conversation. Although it really was hard to hear what the old badger was saying from so far away…

"I'm sorry, Sister, but it appears that some terrible soul has gone and smashed one of your window's in…"

"He broke the window?" Rosette hissed quietly to herself in horror. What was the demon thinking? What a..a…demon! For his sake, he better have the money to pay for it…

Rosette couldn't see her mother's face, but she could already tell that she was shocked senseless. It wasn't everyday that your daughter is branded as a thief and a car-wrecker. Rosette was breaking quite a few records in one day.

"And—and did you see who…did it?" Kate said, her voice strangled. The neighbor shook her old head.

"No, I'm sorry that I didn't. But…" the old lady's face seemed to glow. She linked her hands together and let out a contented sigh. "There was a very handsome young man that was picking up all the shattered glass. Such a kind man…even when I offered to help he just shook his head and said he had it under control. Getting his hands bloodied up like that…what a sweet thing."

Rosette wanted to scream. _A kind man!? _Was the old lady so blind that she didn't see the horns sticking out of his head? The giant pointed spine whipping around his body? For goodness' sakes, _the bat wings_? Maybe she had seen someone other than Chrono…because why would he even bother to pick up the pieces?

The fact still remained that he broke her window. It had to be him. Who else would want to commit a crime on that rickety old truck? There was no benefit to sabotaging such a piece of junk. The shattered window was a testament to his determination to escape. But then…why try to repair it?

"He's senile. He has to be crazy. Maybe he was kept down there for a reason…"

"Rosette." Kate said, turning her head to smile warmly at her. Rosette's insides turned to dust as she caught onto the glint in her eye. The smile looked maternal, but it definitely didn't reach her eyes. The smile was a pretense put on for the oblivious Mrs. Chapin.

"Yes, mother?" Rosette said with the same level of fake formality. Rosette was leaning far over enough to see Mrs. Chapin's rotund face grinning happily above her baby blue knit sweater. Obviously she thought she was witnessing a pure golden family moment in the making.

Good thing she didn't know that Kate wanted to hang Rosette by her eyelashes.

"Will you walk Mrs. Chapin out to your car? Please make sure nothing is stolen." Her smile faltered a little and Rosette got a glimpse of the madwoman-in-waiting. "I'll follow after soon."

Fearing for every hair on her seventeen-year-old body, Rosette nodded and sauntered out the door. Kate held it open wide, letting Rosette pass by without so much as a smack on the back of the head. She shut the door quietly, leaving Rosette with her short and good-natured neighbor.

"You've grown so much," Mrs. Chapin said conversationally as they plodded along at a snail's pace. Rosette was forced to make slow and tedious steps as she kept in time with the lady's hobble. The sun became antagonistic within the seven minutes that they shuffled along. There was no living creature on any of the streets. Rosette liked to imagine herself in one of the houses, loping around with the air conditioning, eating ice cream on the counter top and not worrying about being branded a thief…

"Oh, just look at that, " the lady said with a sigh. Rosette, completely disoriented by the heat, at first couldn't believe her eyes. She happened to have a very clean slate and had never tried drugs, but after seeing a young man bending over her car, she began to question that record. It would certainly take an immense size of crack to produce what she was seeing.

Mrs. Chapin was correct in saying that someone had shattered her window. Not one shard was left, leaving a square, gaping hole that would soon echo the emptiness in her wallet. Not in this lifetime did she have the funds to pay for that. She could only hope that with bloody diligence and torn up fingers would she be able to piece it back together.

It would be a puzzle piece to be lauded by the most sadistic and gore-greedy of men.

Shards and holes aside though, the more astounding item was crouched under the open crevasse that was her former window. Mrs. Chapin was again correct in saying that this young man was undoubtedly handsome. Long purple hair flowed down a tan, sweaty, and bare back. Lean biceps ended in cupped hands filled with glass. She could see blood dripping from between his pianist-like fingers. He was tall, he was young, and he was a human male. No pointy ears, no satanic horns, and definitely no batwings sticking out like road signs.

She could've punched him. Or, if she wanted to unveil the real sadist in her, forced him to curl his glass-littered hand into a fist. Of course she had neither the power nor the heartlessness to do such a thing, so instead she berated him in her mind. All for nothing! Stealing the coat, gabbing loudly about his Halloween horns and Lord of the Ring's ears at the stoplight as those two little girls looked on in wonder….and for what? So that he could turn her into a yakking coat thief? He could've just as easily transformed himself!

'_You didn't know,_' she consoled herself with the truth. How would she have known what the demon's powers were? All she knew about him was that he was a handsome criminal with a grumpy disposition toward her. And now, that he could change his appearance at will, that he had some beef with her sad-sorry truck, and that he fancied cleaning up his own messes. That wasn't much to go on.

Of course…she didn't _know _that Chrono had broken her window, but who in their right mind would? She couldn't think of many people who would go swinging at a car when there was a behemoth of a demon sitting in the passenger side. The perpetrator could've been _blind_, but last time she checked, Rosette wasn't on the no-no list of the blind community.

So it was Chrono, no doubt about it.

The heat was sweltering and Rosette was seeing more than mirages of water as she stared at Chrono's glistening profile. Any other girl would've snapped fifty pictures of his completely model-worthy body already. Rosette was not any other girl though, and she wasn't going to let him off the hook just because he could make the whole female population feel faint. He was still going to pay for her car somehow, even if it meant him cleaning dishes, painting her toes, and scrubbing her toilet for years after.

"Hello," Rosette ground out, trying to sound as genial as possible. Mrs. Chapin's heart was bound to explode five different ways if she witnessed young Ms. Christopher outright strangle the kind young stranger picking up her window (or what was left of it).

Chrono lifted his head slowly, as if he hadn't heard them before they had even come around the corner. As if he hadn't sensed their warmth before he was even in eyeshot. "Hrm."

Chrono had a wonderful way with words that no one else seemed to have. She put her hands on her knees and leaned forward, smiling a little. Mrs. Chapin was diagonal enough to the teen to be able to see her expression. The old woman definitely didn't have the hearing though. "What did you do to my window?" she hissed through a grinning veneer.

"It was hot," the demon retorted. Why was she complaining? He was attempting to do her miserable car some justice and pick up the shards. The window probably cost more than the entire car did. If it were a nicer car he would've felt bad (by only a fraction), but for the red hulk in front of him? Not a chance.

Rosette leaned in closer. "If everybody in the world broke their window when it was hot," she whispered to him, "windows would go out of production." She glanced down at his hand. "You're bleeding."

"It doesn't hurt."

"I didn't ask if it did." Chrono frowned at her, apparently not amused with her attitude. Not used to girls with a backbone, perhaps?

Mrs. Chapin, thinking their whispering had something to do with flirting, giggled wisely to herself. She remembered all the things she'd done to drive the boys wild… It was only when Rosette spoke loudly to her that she was pulled out of her reminiscing reverie. "What was that, dear?"

"I said," Rosette nearly hollered. "I'm going to take him inside to clean his hands."

Although Mrs. Chapin knew that she was supposed to wait for Kate to come outside, she wasn't one to deny the teen's request. Any opportunity to scrutinize the well-built male in front of them was enough of an excuse for her.

"Alright. Come along now."

Rosette nodded and reached out to wrap her hand around Chrono's wrist. He pulled away, dropping some bloody shards in the process. She reached out to him again in agitation, even as he was shaking his head at her and frowning.

"I can pick myself up," he told her, rising to a stand. His shadow towered over her bent frame. She quickly stood up also, fearing that he'd be cruel enough to drop all of the glass pieces on her head. Hey, she didn't know him well enough to know what he would and would not do.

"Ok, Mr. Touchy," she muttered, motioning for him to follow. Both of his hands were littered with glass, held up and out as if in an offering. They abandoned the remaining slivers on the hot concrete. As he followed Rosette and Mrs. Chapin his graceful loping quickly changed to that of languid steps as he was forced to match Mrs. Chapin's pacing. It was a peculiar feeling for him—a demon who lived fast and hard to be taking casual strolls with a nun and a quaint old lady.

They met Kate at her doorstep. She had one foot out the door when Rosette and company walked past the gate and up the concrete steps of her front walkway. Kate exhaled sharply in disapproval upon seeing the shirtless stranger, and exhibited this by making a barricade of her arm across the door, refusing Chrono passage after Rosette had gone in.

"Mom!" Rosette groaned, hands on her hips as she faced Chrono from inside the house. "Stop it! He's hurt!"

"How is the car?" Kate asked, keeping an eye on Chrono, who was nearly sneering at her.

"It's _fine_." Rosette answered.

"And there's no window? What if somebody tries to steal it?"

Rosette sighed. "Have you _seen_ that car? No one in his or her right mind would steal it. Can you let him in, please?"

"Rosette," Kate said without turning to her whimsical daughter. "I will not have a bare-chested, bloody stranger wandering around my house with my daughter." She glanced briefly at Rosette, who suddenly became conscious of how high the slit in her skirt was. "Go change."

Chin high and hands shivering slightly, Rosette firmly stated, "No."

Kate bit the inside of her cheek until it was swollen and leaking blood. Not yet…she refocused her gaze on her neighbor, who was shifting uncomfortably under the tension that was choking the atmosphere. "Mrs. Chapin, thank you for escorting my daughter. You must pardon us though, for I have some things to discuss with Rosette." The way she spoke clearly left no room for argument.

"O-of course, Sister. Anything, always," Mrs. Chapin promised, giving a smile that was dampened under the current situation. She gave a bemused wave at the two females, and a lingering gaze at the demon who appeared to just as uncomfortable as she was. Still smiling a half-smile, Mrs. Chapin slowly tottered away to her house next door. When she was out of earshot, (which wasn't very far, considering the lady's range of hearing), Kate turned her hurricane on Rosette.

"Rosette, go upstairs. And **you**—" she gave Chrono a hefty stare. You will come with me into the kitchen."

Chrono bared his teeth, but the effect was much less threatening without his fangs. Rosette, immediately foreshadowing that he was about to speak his mind (and that the end result wasn't going to be good at all), quickly sprung into action. "Don't—"

"Mom! I'll take care of him!" She hollered over Chrono's voice, stifling whatever nasty thing he might've said about her mother. "My virtue will be _fine_," she added, as if to placate her mother. She attempted to move her mother's arm, but it was fused with the doorway. "Mother…"

"Rosette," Kate said slowly. "What…did you steal?"

Rosette was beginning to think Kate had a serious case of amnesia. "We already went over this." Besides, if Kate really wanted to know the answer, all she had to do was look right in front of her.

"Yes we did," Kate vehemently agreed. "But we are far from done, young lady." She glanced back at Chrono. "Don't move, boy."

"You're being cruel," Rosette ground out, watching as Chrono's fists attempted to clench. His left eye twitched when she heard a crunching sound. A large drop of blood fell from his hand. "He's bleeding all over the place. He could get infected. Can you **_please_** talk to me about this _after_ he's bandaged? He did help out after all…"

Kate glanced swiftly between (what she considered) her scantily clad daughter and the half-naked man before her. Normally two nearly half-naked teens spelled disaster and rotund stomachs, but the chance of the stranger getting an infection weighed heavily on her mind. She refused to be responsible for the boy any more than she had to be.

"Come inside," she finally consented, removing her hand. He narrowed his eyes and managed a nod to her, slipping by silently. He wandered behind Rosette into the kitchen, feeling relieved that she was there for the first time. He wasn't sure how well he would fare if stuck alone with Kate. He was sure that it would end with a cross lodged into the side of his neck.

"Drop the pieces in here." Rosette held up a white trash bin, protected by a clear plastic bag. Inside were old coffee grounds and wrappers from frozen mixed vegetables.

Chrono complied silently. He opened his long hands and let the loose ones fall. Unfortunately most of the slivers were imbedded into his hands. Rosette couldn't help but wince as she took in his sliced up hands. Really, he shouldn't have tried so hard. Even though she was angry with him for breaking it, she still couldn't cover up her sympathy for him. It _was_ an old car, after all.

As Rosette sat across from Chrono in a counter top chair, Kate strode in with a box of medical supplies. She laid it out before them and stood between them with her arms crossed over her chest. Rosette felt eerily like she was on a date with her mother as a chaperone. This was probably the reason why Rosette's hands shook as she reached out for Chrono's.

His hands were under the table. Rosette sighed. "I need your hands, _sir_," she said, aware that Kate was scrutinizing absolutely everything she said and did.

He turned his head less than half an inch to the side, and then to the other. Rosette couldn't fathom why he wouldn't want to be treated. If she were in his position she'd be hollering and begging for salve. He adamantly kept his hands to himself though, apparently trying to keep something from Kate. Why?

"You're bleeding; please give me your hands."

His mouth opened slightly as his lips formed a 'no'. She sighed and leaned back, placing the tweezers and cloth back down on the counter. "Listen, you—"

"Put your hands on the table."

Kate was watching Chrono closely, her eyes narrowed so much that they looked closed. Her foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum floor. "Do it, boy."

Chrono's eyebrow twitched at the title. How dare that old hag…he could turn her head a full 360 with one slap of his hand. But he was the mother of the female before her, and he still owed her for taking him from his shackled life. Was that enough of an excuse to protect him though? Even though just being in their house was damning him, could he afford to go even deeper?

Knowing he was going to hell no matter what he did, Chrono slowly slid one of his hands on the table. It was curled halfway, unable to open because that would tear the wounds open further. Rosette smiled at him, picking up her tweezers again. Deep inside of his crippled soul he wished he could mirror her emotions at that moment—anything to soothe the sudden feeling of anxiety that gripped him.

He flinched when Rosette's hand slipped under his own, but he managed to not pull away. She cupped his hand gently, picking out the shards with maternal care. Chrono did not stare at her as she worked, for he felt like he would be intruding if he did. He felt like he was intruding enough already. He could feel Kate's hawk eyes on his profile. His hand felt like it was going to burn alive with the feeling of her skin. He couldn't think straight with all of these things assaulting him at once.

She bandaged him up nicely, tight enough so that the wrappings would stay, but not so constricting that it turned his hand purple. She gave him a soft pat when she was done, taping up the end carefully so that it would not unravel. She held out her hand, awaiting his other one.

Glancing over to Kate, Chrono slowly slid his over hand onto the table. He knew that right as his hand was revealed he was screwing himself sideways, but there wasn't much that he could do. Rosette didn't pick up on anything unusual, but Kate was much keener than she was. The Sister frowned as she observed Chrono's digits, his palm, and his wrist.

"That's an interesting tattoo you have," Kate said, her tone suggesting that 'interesting' wasn't the word she really had in mind. "Is that a barcode?"

Chrono grit his teeth. The ship was tipping and this woman was going to plunge him in and outright drown him. "Yes, it is."

"What is the inscription beneath it?"

"I-I-B-D-77-0." He said softly. Rosette's hand had stilled upon hearing his tone. The tweezers gravitated in the air between her fingers. She was glancing back and forth inconspicuously between her mother and her demon. He was looking off to the side, and Kate was looking coolly detached. Despite this though, murder shone in her eyes.

"Rosette," Kate commanded. Rosette glanced fearfully at her mother. "Please go upstairs and get my purple makeup kit."

"Wuh—"

"Just do it, Rosette. I will stay down here with our guest."

Rosette looked imploringly into Chrono's eyes, and ever so slowly he nodded his head. Rosette sighed and set her tools back down again, taking her time to wash her hands in the sink. The room was deathly silent as she wiped her hands purposely on a towel, eyeing her mother suspiciously. When she exited the kitchen she nearly ran up the stairs and to her mother's room. She was half fearing that if she took too long, somebody would end up dead in the kitchen.

Her mother had two makeup kits, a paradox in itself since Kate didn't like wearing much makeup. Rosette knew that her mother was always well prepared though, and usually bought things that she would only use once or twice in her life. Hence, her myriad of nail polish, lipstick, and eyeliners. There was enough to paint a mural in a kindergarten classroom.

The purple one was the bulkier of the two makeup kits, the other one being a shiny teal. It looked big enough to lose a small child in it, which was one of the reason's why Rosette never dared to open it. It weighed a ton as she dragged it out from under the sink in the bathroom. Why was she doing this? Rosette had to wonder why she was being so complaint as she carried the case in her sagging arms. Was Kate going to dress up for Chrono? Jab him in the eye with a lipstick? Impale him with eyeliner? If she really wanted to torture him, all she probably had to do was paint his nails.

Nothing bad ever came out of makeup though, as far as Rosette was concerned. If Kate wanted to chuck beautifying products at Chrono, then that was fine by Rosette. Unless there was acidic nail polish or anything razor sharp (which she was convinced there _wasn't_), she didn't have much to worry about.

When she walked back into the kitchen the tension was palpable. The padding of her tennis shoes on the floor sounded too loud. When she set the case down on the table the sound echoed more than she would like. Rosette sat herself back across from Rosette, frowning at the box situated between them.

"Thank you, Rosette," Kate said icily. Rosette nodded, watching as she unlatched the kit. Kate's hand wrapped around something and Rosette wondered if the nail polish chucking would begin. It that's what it would be…Rosette was going to duck and cover. Those things were made of glass! Chrono was on his own if things started to fly, too.

"Rosette—" Chrono began suddenly, pushing himself back in his chair. Rosette yelped at him, recognizing that he was going to fall backwards in less than a second. He twisted out of the chair, managing to keep himself upright for a moment. But then his foot caught the rug under their couch and he toppled over backwards into the sofa.

"Geez, watch where you're…" she trailed off, a small laugh at his clumsiness dying in her throat. "…Mom?"

Kate loomed over the upside down form of Chrono, her face impassive as she looked down at him. One hand was clenched tightly at her side. The other was cocked forward. She was holding a gun, and she was pointing it at Chrono's face.

"On your feet, demon."

OooO

A/N: To be continued….

Sorry this took so long. I have no time to myself anymore. I am a slave to school and sports.

I hope that it's becoming obvious that Chrono isn't very social-savvy with humans. He's been locked up for decades, so he feels uncomfortable when people try to touch him or have a conversation with him. Later on though he'll become more talkative and more like the Chrono in the series.

Thank you for all that reviewed! I really appreciate it. It lets me know whether this will be a success or not. I really, really hope it is.

Next chapter….the bargain is revealed, finally!

--Obsidian Sorrows


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